six p.m.”
“How reliable is the foreman tracking their time?”
“Very. The guy was a fourth-generation cop who retired into his uncle’s business. If the cons have any construction skills, he puts them to work for me, hoping they’ll turn around and not go back in when they see they can make a good living with honest work. He’s been pretty successful.”
“Lunch hour?”
“Only thirty minutes and they bring food in for the workers. And the job they’re working is on the south side of New Orleans. They couldn’t even make it to Vodoun in thirty minutes, much less back to the site to clock in.”
Holt sighed. “I agree. Thanks for the information.”
“I’ll ask around. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know. I’m really sorry you caught this. I hate the kid cases.”
“Me, too,” Holt said, and hung up the phone.
He stared out the window and frowned. Just because those two guys were accounted for didn’t mean it wasn’t an ex-con. It could have been one paroled outside of the area. Someone with a friend or relative to visit close by that had run across Erika by chance and took her.
But that didn’t explain where the doll came from.
And that was the big fly in the investigative ointment. That doll implied planning and plotting. That doll meant everything had been premeditated, and that meant someone had been watching for a while, just waiting for the right opportunity.
Which meant someone local.
Holt shoved the chair back and left the office, certain he needed another cup of coffee before he compiled a list of every Vodoun resident and started crossing them off one at a time. He’d barely made it back to his desk before the phone started ringing. One glance at the display told him he wasn’t going to like the call. It was his uncle, and Holt could think of only one reason why he’d be calling the sheriff’s department this early.
“Morning, Jasper,” Holt answered.
“What the hell were you thinking taking the department’s boat and running around the bayou over some nonsense cooked up by a crazy woman? I called the office trying to find you and the dispatcher told me
everything, so don’t even try to deny it.”
“I’m not trying to deny it. Sarah is convinced her daughter was taken by the woman on the island. Either I checked it out or she was going to.”
“Then let her do it. It’s not your job.”
“No, it’s yours. Last time I checked, the department was supposed to investigate the disappearance of children. That’s what I’m doing. I’m assuming you wouldn’t want two missing people in Vodoun, and that’s exactly what we’d have if Sarah went into the swamp alone.”
“That woman is a waste of this town’s time and resources.”
“It wasn’t a waste.”
There was dead silence for a moment, then his uncle responded. “Don’t tell me you found something.”
“We found a barrette. Like the ones Erika was wearing when she disappeared.”
“So what? Dime-store barrettes are hardly evidence that the girl was there. It could have been dropped by anyone.”
“Yeah, but this particular barrette happened to be in a glass jar on a shelf in the old woman’s cabin. That seems awful strange to me.”
His uncle cursed again, and Holt knew he was more than pissed that the whole thing hadn’t been the exercise in futility he’d assumed it was. With this evidence, his uncle had no choice but to authorize a full search of the island. Of course, a full search in Vodoun meant Holt and whoever else he could muster up to help. But there was the not-so-small issue of someone shooting at them to be taken into consideration before he started letting people volunteer.
“There’s more,” Holt said.
“What now?”
Holt told him about the shooter, glossing over just how close their escape had been.
“It must have been the old woman, right?” his uncle asked.
“That’s the logical answer, but what if it wasn’t? We don’t really know all that much
“How reliable is the foreman tracking their time?”
“Very. The guy was a fourth-generation cop who retired into his uncle’s business. If the cons have any construction skills, he puts them to work for me, hoping they’ll turn around and not go back in when they see they can make a good living with honest work. He’s been pretty successful.”
“Lunch hour?”
“Only thirty minutes and they bring food in for the workers. And the job they’re working is on the south side of New Orleans. They couldn’t even make it to Vodoun in thirty minutes, much less back to the site to clock in.”
Holt sighed. “I agree. Thanks for the information.”
“I’ll ask around. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know. I’m really sorry you caught this. I hate the kid cases.”
“Me, too,” Holt said, and hung up the phone.
He stared out the window and frowned. Just because those two guys were accounted for didn’t mean it wasn’t an ex-con. It could have been one paroled outside of the area. Someone with a friend or relative to visit close by that had run across Erika by chance and took her.
But that didn’t explain where the doll came from.
And that was the big fly in the investigative ointment. That doll implied planning and plotting. That doll meant everything had been premeditated, and that meant someone had been watching for a while, just waiting for the right opportunity.
Which meant someone local.
Holt shoved the chair back and left the office, certain he needed another cup of coffee before he compiled a list of every Vodoun resident and started crossing them off one at a time. He’d barely made it back to his desk before the phone started ringing. One glance at the display told him he wasn’t going to like the call. It was his uncle, and Holt could think of only one reason why he’d be calling the sheriff’s department this early.
“Morning, Jasper,” Holt answered.
“What the hell were you thinking taking the department’s boat and running around the bayou over some nonsense cooked up by a crazy woman? I called the office trying to find you and the dispatcher told me
everything, so don’t even try to deny it.”
“I’m not trying to deny it. Sarah is convinced her daughter was taken by the woman on the island. Either I checked it out or she was going to.”
“Then let her do it. It’s not your job.”
“No, it’s yours. Last time I checked, the department was supposed to investigate the disappearance of children. That’s what I’m doing. I’m assuming you wouldn’t want two missing people in Vodoun, and that’s exactly what we’d have if Sarah went into the swamp alone.”
“That woman is a waste of this town’s time and resources.”
“It wasn’t a waste.”
There was dead silence for a moment, then his uncle responded. “Don’t tell me you found something.”
“We found a barrette. Like the ones Erika was wearing when she disappeared.”
“So what? Dime-store barrettes are hardly evidence that the girl was there. It could have been dropped by anyone.”
“Yeah, but this particular barrette happened to be in a glass jar on a shelf in the old woman’s cabin. That seems awful strange to me.”
His uncle cursed again, and Holt knew he was more than pissed that the whole thing hadn’t been the exercise in futility he’d assumed it was. With this evidence, his uncle had no choice but to authorize a full search of the island. Of course, a full search in Vodoun meant Holt and whoever else he could muster up to help. But there was the not-so-small issue of someone shooting at them to be taken into consideration before he started letting people volunteer.
“There’s more,” Holt said.
“What now?”
Holt told him about the shooter, glossing over just how close their escape had been.
“It must have been the old woman, right?” his uncle asked.
“That’s the logical answer, but what if it wasn’t? We don’t really know all that much
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